Light. Law. [High]Way. (60)

Be a good citizen. All governments are under God. Insofar as there is peace and order, it's God's order. So live responsibly as a citizen. If you’re irresponsible to the state, then you’re irresponsible with God, and God will hold you responsible. Duly constituted authorities are only a threat if you’re trying to get by with something. Decent citizens should have nothing to fear. Do you want to be on good terms with the government? Be a responsible citizen and you’ll get on just fine, the government working to your advantage. But if you’re breaking the rules right and left, watch out. The police aren’t there just to be admired in their uniforms. God also has an interest in keeping order, and he uses them to do it. That’s why you must live responsibly—not just to avoid punishment but also because it’s the right way to live. That’s also why you pay taxes—so that an orderly way of life can be maintained. Fulfill your obligations as a citizen. Pay your taxes, pay your bills, respect your leaders. - Romans13:1-6 The Message Bible.

We're winding down 2014, packing away the undone deeds and un-met targets in a dark closet, to be burnt at midnight tonight. At the same time, we're winding up for the new year and all that we hope to achieve. Hope is a-coming to the world. But there are those that continue to toil amidst the panic to sign off 2014 or sign into 2015. This is a tribute to those who I rarely have good words for. I celebrate the awesome way you served the nation i.e. me, today. 

Last night, the fridge started moaning and groaning at about 10 pm. Then the lights dimmed and finally, we were bathed in darkness. I have seen and heard several complaints about the inefficiency of UMEME this holiday season and I'd hoped that our village would remain unaffected. I was saddened to watch as we slowly slipped into darkness. The husband works for a service company and has great compassion for call centre folk. He was content to wait it out, afterall, when has UMEME ever rushed to anyone's rescue? I, on the other hand, was on the hotline in 5 minutes and chatted with a cheerful Olivia who took my name, phone number and account number, with a promise to look into the matter immediately.  A few minutes later, we were watching Mr Peabody and Sherman, courtesy of the Light of Uganda. Well done UMEME.

I had breakfast with a friend from varsity thisnmorning. It was a pleasant rarity since varsity is miles away [geographically and psychologically. Very few of my alumni ever wind up in Kampala. It's too close to Africa.] Anywho, we were talking about how difficult it is to do anything ethically in Uganda. There's always a guy looking for something on the side or under the table! 

After breakfast, I decided to go to InterPol. I didn't expect them to be open on New Year's eve. I'd just planned to find out what I needed to do to process a certificate of good conduct, with the aim of coming back later in Jan. 

I was shocked when I walked to the gate and found business as usual in the InterPol office! Even the photocopying lady had come in for the day. I was so impressed that I was able to submit my application today, complete with payments, fingerprints and everything. [I even forgave the fact that we  have to pay for and get a receipt for the "officer's allowance". At least, it was a standard 3,000/- per person and not dependant on the tone of one's skin or the label on one's jeans.] The Law actually made sense today. Well done Kale and kru! Now, if only we could just switch from a paper to paperless process... Out of the line and online... [wink, wink, Kagina].

On the way home, I was pleasantly surprised by another crew of gentlemen clearing the Way for me. KCCA, through Abu-baker and Co, were actually fixing the roads. Maybe they were trying to use up the 2014 budget before midnight or they had genuinely heard the cries of the pedestrians and motorists on Portbell Road. Whatever the case, I am glad Musisi's men were at work today. 

These are trivial issues, things that the government should obviously provide for us: light, law and paths. But my villagemates and I know not to take for granted the fulfillment of duties by our village guardians. We celebrate these moments when we see that there is hope of actual development. 

P.s. UMEME sent me a text this morning to say that my query had been addressed and that I should call if I have any other issues. It's not even my name on the account. But they bothered to show that they care ♡♡.

In spite of you, I smile (59)

A few weeks ago, I raved about how awesome Orange Telecom was, especially their customer care. They lost a few points today. I don't mind that I was on hold for 15 minutes before the call centre answered my call. I also don't mind that it took them more than 4 hours to address my simple query. I'm not even bothered by the fact that I had to call them to remind them that I was waiting for their response. What irks me is that they are thieves. They've actually managed to catch up to MTN's stealth. Why bother warning you about the expiration of your data bundle when they can use up your airtime? Rage, fist-shaking rage!

But still we smile. We made chapati and beans (for me) and red cabbage blaukraut (for him). Do what you can Orange, we will still smile.

Why I need to learn Luganda (58)

The scene opens as the main character, C, steps out of the passenger side of a white Mark II at a busy junction. The 'busyness' is made evident by the criss-crossing of motorcycles and pedestrians amongst the cars. C bids the driver farewell and crosses the road to her destination: Kintintale Market. 

C's manner and attire make it obvious that she isn't one of the vendors. In a pink shirt, faded black shorts, sketchers and black sunglasses, she walks past the matooke stalls and stops at D's vegetable stall. D is still busy with another customer,  so C waits. 

"Good morning. How are you?" The haggling begins. 

"I am well but hoping for a good New Year," D responds.

"Ok. Let's see if I can help you. How much are the tomatoes and green pepper?" the haggling continues. C pretends to be shocked by the prices but pulls a 20,000/- note out of her purse, anticipating that her total costs will be about 10,000/-. She notices a basket of fresh beans and moves on to check this out. Unknown to her, the note drops to her feet. 

The other vendors have been lazily watching the exchange between D and C. Their interest peaks as the money drops. T wais walking by on her morning tea rounds. She dares not hope for too much on such a slow day. Then the sees the red note lying on the ground. Quickly and quietly, she picks it and sneaks away. 

"Ehh! They've taken that woman's money and she hasn't noticed," B exclaims. C and D are so engrossed in their exchange that they barely notice the drama. 

"Madam, they've taken your money." C finally realises that she is being spoken to. She searches her purse and realises she has been robbed. 

"Did you see who took it? Where did she go to?" C begins to debate the merits and dimerits of shopping in the market. 

"She went this way. I know her. She serves tea in the market every morning. Let's go find her," B leads C on, leaving D staring after them with her almost-sold goods packed and ready. 

"Perhaps I should let it be, " C thinks to herself. "I don't want to deal with market drama. I don't know these people."

"Have you found her?" D joins the search and arrest crew.

"No. I think she's trying to avoid us. Let's go check at her cooking station. I know where it is," B leads the crew. 

They matched through the make-shift establishments at the back of the market. 

"I can't believe she just walked away with the money," B exclaims. "I thought she was going to hand it back to you."

"We didn't even notice what happened,"D joins in. "This is so sad. It's too early to be robbed."

"I really think this is getting too serious," C thinks to herself. "I was careless and I deserve this. What if she denies the accusations? What then?"

"This is her station," B announces. "Let's wait for her."

"Who are you looking for?" One of the other tea ladies asks. 

D and B explain the drama as all the tea ladies listen. 

"Imagine that! All along I thought she was a decent person," laments another tea lady. "Until now I actually considered her a friend. Greed changes people!"

"I think she saw the money and thought Christmas had come twice in 2014," added yet another tea lady. 

"Let's wait and see what she says," C reminds them. "I still don't know who she is or why she did it."

"There she is!" B exclaims. "Look at her smile. She still has the money in her hands! "

A chorus of questions greets her. 

"You! Where are you coming?"

"Why did you take the money?"

'But T, how disappointing!"

"Where's my money?"

"Can you imagine?"

T is laughing out loud, literally. 

"I just wanted to teach you a lesson," she says as the hands the money over to C. "Next time you won't be so lucky!"

In the actual tale, the only language spoken was Luganda of Buganda, Uganda. This is why I need  to learn the language or maybe just avoid markets in the south. I never struggle to communicate in the north. But that's another story. For now, we celebrate the tomatoes and green pepper that made for a lovely chick pea curry. 

Experiment: Sweet Potato Soup (57)

We're experimenting with healthy cooking and low fat everything. For Ugandans, that really translates into everyday cooking. We tend to eat more bean, pea and groundnnut stew than meat anyway. The fridge was empty (which usually ends up with purchase of unhealthy fatty stuff : yummy kabalagala and the like). So, I broke my vow to avoid shopping centres during the holiday season and we went to re-stock. 

I decided I want to try chick peas. He decided he likes cauliflower. We both agreed on mushrooms and bananas. Jungle oats were 6500/- for half a kilo, giving me ideas for bakes and things. I'll throw in a kalango here for the bosses. Thank you for Christmas bonuses that pay the grocery bill. Little things like that make the night shift and late hours a bit more bearable.

He went off to do some tinkering at the office. I went home and decided to make sweet potato soup. It was surprisingly easy and tasty. I just fried a chopped onion and garlic in a little oil, then, added ginger, cinnamon, chilli powder, mixed spices and a couple of grated tomatoes (without the skin). I then blended 4 cooked sweet potatoes and added to the cooking veggies. 8 tea spoons of odi later, we had soup! Fabulous stuff, especially with brown bread. [kept some for next day's lunch :-) ]

♡ being home. Let's just say sweet potatoes are hard to come by in Houston.

O Happy Day (56)

Happiness and jubilation! Joy and celebration! Congratulations to Lois and Andrew. 

It is wonderful and strange to see old friends get married. It's strange to realise how much older we are and how much more put together they appear. I'm still working out whether or not this work thing makes sense. Meanwhile, Lois is on her way to being an awesome surgeon and has, what seems to be, the most reliable and forward-thinking husband ever. Between her medicine and his biochemistry (or was it environmental science?) They are well on their way to saving the world. As they say in Uglish, 'well done. Mukulik'embaga.' 

Experiment: Mug Cakes (55)

I'm still terrified by the gas oven. After 2 half-cooked/burnt cakes, I'm taking a break. So, I'm experimenting with the microwave. Here goes...

Chocolate

In bowl one, I mixed

-baking flour -> 8 tbsp

-sugar -> 6 tbsp

-drinking chocolate -> 5 tbsp

-ground coffee -> 1.5 tbsrecipe ing powder -> 1/2 tsp

-salt -> 1/2 tsp

In bowl two, I mixed 

-eggs -> 2

-vegetable oil -> 2 tbsp

-milk (or water) -> 6 tbsp

I mixed contents from bowl 1 into bowl 2 and then placed the mix in mugs. It took 2 minutes to bake.

Carrot cake

In bowl one, I mixed

-baking flour -> 6 tbsp
-sugar -> 2 tbsp
-baking powder -> 1/4 tsp
-salt -> 1/4 tsp
-cinnamon -> 1/4 tsp
-ginger -> 1/4 tsp

In bowl two, I mixed

-yoghurt -> 6 tbsp
-vegetable oil -> 2 tbsp
-finely grated carrot -> 1/2 a piece

I mixed bowl one into bowl two, placed in mugs and baked for 3 minutes.

I firmly believe that recipes are guidelines, not rules. The original chocolate cake recipe didn't have coffee and was about half these quantities. It also had choclolate sauce. We made strawberry sauce using strawberry cream liquer and yoghurt.  The original carrot cake recipe included 1 tbsp of almonds and 1 tbsp of raisins. I couldn't be bothered to go shopping that early in the morning. We had fun though and a great breakfast.

Of Christmas and Empty Nests (54)

I woke up to the sound of rain drops tapping away at the bedroom window. There was no banging of pots in the kitchen as Mummy made breakfast or the revving of car engines as Daddy decided which car to use for the annual visit to Uncle John's house for Christmas lunch. A few minutes later, Ivan calls from the tip of the continent to convey his greetings and salutations. Tutu sends an email requesting for a conference call at 4 pm. I am hit by the fact that they are no longer just down the corridor or on the other side of the house. I cannot pound at Tutu's door to chase her sleepiness or playfully drizzle water over Ivan's face to banish a possible hang over. My little ones are gone. And I have a new life. Tis been a year of many firsts, this may be the loudest change for me. First Christmas with us sprinkled all over the planet. 

Laughter and voices cannot replace the actual warmth of physical beings. But thank God for google chat and for Orange mobile data. Merry Christmas little-ones-who-are-not-so-little-anymore! Nga the years have rushed by so quickly. The Rents, I'm sure are proud of you and your achievements. As your unofficial Maama Omuto I am proud that you left the nest when your own wings were strong enough and you can stand on your own.

Salaams from the motherland. Merry Christmas. 

O Holy Night (53)

I haven't spent Christmas in Kampala for years. I realise that I am unsure about what to do here. I drove into town expecting a massive traffic jam. I thought there would be chaos and craziness. But I was able to find a parking space on Kampala road, right in front of the railway station. I went to the Art @Railway trade show. It's always lovely to go through the African craft amd fabric stalls. We went antique diving too. This time I made the wise (?) decision to leave the angel candle holder behind. Maybe next time... Lunch with Yvonne and her girls. And Aunt Rhona. This is what Kampala looks like on Christmas Eve.

This morning, the neighbour's turkey woke me up. I was used to the ducks and chickens, however, this turkey was a recent addition to the clan of squawkers. I remembered that the Luganda translation for Christmas - Sekukulu - actually means Turkey Day. Sure enough by 10 am, the air was filled with the aroma of roasted poultry. The duck and her ducklings were still alive and the size of the pieces on the sigiri indicated that the chicken had survived while the turkey had met its inevitable delicious end! Merry Christmas indeed! 

We've finally finished the Christmas ornaments. Buttons. Fabric. Glass bottles. Spray paint. Yarn. Lots of time. It is done. I think I may have been born late in life. I love 80s music and re-purposing stuff. Mum says they used to make their own underwear back in the day. I still save and re-use polyethene bags and wrapping paper. I love shopoing for antiques. Anywho, the ornaments are done!

I think I might forever stick to the Christmas Eve church service. It seems more meaningful than the elaborate drama that is the Christmas morning service. There's no need for a special dress or new shoes. There are less people, most of whom I know, unlike the cramped crowd on 25th. And the service ended early. 1.5 hours. That's gotta be a record for Bugolobi. I think I've decided on my Christmas celebration service. 

Candlelight Service 24.12.2014

Let it pour (52)

I had two Mondays this week. My eyes opened with the sluggishness of having had too much fun. I was very reluctant to get up.  It didn't help that he was just as sleepy as I was. I usually get breakfast ready, clean up and do a round of water for the plants every morning. I thought I'd gotten it down to a tidy rhythm. Then today happened.

I prayed for rain, so that I wouldn't have to leave the house. I know my prayer was opposed to millions of others who have to wade through the city when it floods. The sky did not look hopeful [weather forecast means nothing here. You read the weather by looking up]. But I prayed all the same.

I think God met us half way. The heavens parted and it poured, just enough to cover the daily amount that I needed. However, it was not El Nino type crazy. Plus it happened between 3 & 4pm, late enough to avoid the lunch hour traffic but early enough to avoid the end-of-day crazy. 

It poured and I am glad.

Good times and Good friends (51)

I've been toying with the idea of a second income stream. Most of the people I know have something on the side; importing cars, running a bakery, running a bridal salon, selling clothes/shoes/bags/cosmetics... The side hustle is the thing to do. 

When I was in school, I took on a job as a research assistant. I was proud of myself for getting a sensible side hustle until my workmates asked me what I do with my time. They knew about school. Apparently, the fact that I was working and studying did not impress them at all. I needed to use my spare time to 'find' money. Studying was not an acceptable activity. The workmate in question had a business that made t-shirts for events. He was also in school. I wonder how he performed. [N.B. of the 16-18 people in my class, 4 graduated on time. The hustle consumed most of our time and energy. ]

In enters Pam, the talented soul that challenged my myopic idea of the side hustle. Today she showed us what you can do with a 7k spray paint can and old glass bottles. Now, I have all I need for the Christmas decor. Thanks Pam. 

In other news, it was good to see the others. I love being home.

My Brother's Wedding (50)

Felicitations, brother from another mother. Today is a happy day for us. On that cold morning long ago, we left our mother's land  to face an unknown future. We took up our arms together, ready to embrace the battles life would bring our way. You showed me your battle scars and made me less ashamed of my own. 

Today you made her your own and she took you to her heart forever. I am happy for you. I am glad. 

Congratulations Brother!

Something about standing on the shoulders of giants (49)

One of the first times I was this nervous, I was about to face my first set of final exams. We'd studied and practiced for months but I was still scared. I've always been afraid of being examined by others. This was no different.  I was afraid I wouldn't meet the cut. All the evidence, my past results, parents' genetic make up and hard work could not console me. I was scared that 'they' would not deem me worthy of their precious Primary Leaving Examination certificate. 

Today, I dealt with that which I dread more than anything - the airport! I am convinced that there is a smell about airports, something like incense, that spreads gloom and doom. Almost every trip I've made in thw last 9 years involved me leaving for a long time. I moved to a foreign world and would have to adapt and adopt new patterns. I love sameness and consistency. I love predictability. This adapting and adopting unnerves me. 

I am glad that this time, though, I was bringing you home. The shady taxi operators kept nudging us out of the way, trying to isolate potential clients, like a wild cat stalks antelope in the savanna. I tried to wait inside, away from the heat, but the security staff stared at me, making me think I must have stepped in dog poo on the way here. I wasn't comfortable. The children looked out of place, over dressed and bored. They'd been waiting for hours. The Emergency Response Team rushed in with a stretcher. My heart skipped a beat. I started calculating your age, wondering if you are old enough to have heart trouble. Twenty minutes never seemed so long. 

Then you stepped out. I have never been so relieved to see your shaggy hair! We could finally leave the shell that is our international airport, with its gloom. I didn't mind that it rained on us as we put the bags in the car. Or that the drive home took 3 hours. It was great to laugh with you. I didn't know I'd missed home this much. 3 months is a long time. 

Just like the day I did my final exam, we stopped to pick up ice cream. I'm glad that some things never change. Welcome home Daddy.

Fresh [ness]♡ (48)

So in pursuit of all things healthy, we've decided to eat only fresh foods, if we can manage it. I visited the Nakawa people. They never change, smiling and welcoming as ever. The only change was that the "carriers" (boys who offer to carry your bags for you) now charge 1000/-. The hustle is real when inflation hits the streets like that! I like that, unlike other markets I know [hint hint Bugolobi, Nakasero] my failure to speak proper Luganda is not a weakness they take advantage of. I got my fill, a weeks worth of  freshness,  for only 30000/-. We made a tomato-based pasta source and I discovered that natural yoghurt is an excellent replacement for cream. 

Four Cousins (47)

We've discovered a strawberry cream by the Four Cousins that can make any long day manageable. I'm not fond of working across time zones. If I'm stuck, and only Houston can fix it, I have to wait for 8 hours sometimes before I can hope for a response.  Meanwhile, Chad and Congo want an answer NOW! And I'm running on East African time, meaning my day ended 5 hours ago. Thank God for the cousins and for he who knows that ice cream makes every day better.

Of tunes and rhythms (46)

I was late for choir practice. But as it turned out, I was one of the first to arrive. I've been told several times that the organs that function to produce sound require exercise. Last week, we walked away from practice with barely audible voices. This week was a bit better. We were sore but survived. It definitely helped that we had water this time.   snywho, there's a joy in singing hymns by Handel and Mendelssohn in full harmony. Nevermind the fact that we stumbled over the solfa notes and rhythms. 

It took me back to 12 years ago. I remember struggling to read and perform a recorder piece for my final exam. I was shaking so had that I barely produced any sound out of the instrument. I survived that and actually aced the exam. I believe we will survive a few hours of throat aerobics. Whether or not the stress was worth it will depend on how we sound on Christmas eve. In the meantime, I missed hymns and all things traditional. It's good to be home in that sense.

Chapati and Chicken; Cake and Cookies (45)

What are the most important bits of a meal? Is it the preparation? The quality of the ingredients?  The calibre of the chef? The company at the dining table? 

We made chapatis for the first time ever. They actually turned out pretty good. We're trying to go low-fat, so this was the Indian kind, dry and low in oil, not the greasy, thick fat traps that the rolex guy sells at the corner. 

Chapatis remind me of the awesome threesome: Tutu kneading, me with the rolling pin and Ivan with the frying pan. Well, this time it was a twosome. [Apparently, chapati dough needs to rest after kneading. I just thought the Kenyans had a lot of free time.] I kneaded and rolled. He had the frying pan. We chugged along like a well oiled locomotive. Roll-and-fry-and-roll-and-fry... 

He'd brought chicken home the other day. Sadly, I was too dazed to notice the special effort he'd put in. I don't even remember what was on my mind. I doubt it matters any way. We made a curry today. He got the tomatoes because I was too tired to walk to the shops. I know he was tired too, but he went, ungrudgingly. 

To go with our healthy theme, we made a salad. For months he's tended to the lettuce, mostly by himself. We're going through an Italian dressing phase. I'm pretending olive oil is not really oil. He just loves the taste. 

The important part of the meal is all these things and more. It's the story behind the food and faces at the table. Simple things make the world go round. Thank God for chapati and chicken. The cake and cookies are for breakfast. 

Of loaves and fish (44)

God is in the business of making me eat my words, literally. I swore that we would not be able to pull off a production with a cast of 30, supply refreshments at practice, buy costumes, decor and still have enough left over to feed and entertain 200 at a Christmas party. It just wasn't possible. They were ridiculous to expect that from us. It was unfair of them to give us 25% of what we asked for. Yet at the end of the day, we had a successful production, the costumes were donated, decor came together somehow, we had two HUGE lovely cakes and so many drinks at the party that we could afford to donate to the Worship Team. Out of 500,000/-, God showed that He could run the children's drama team for 3 months, have too much food and drink at the Christmas party and still have change left over at the end of the day. I am totally embarrassed and gladly, so.

The stars of the day

20 minutes (42)

The customer care in Kampala, or rather, the lack of it, is legendary. Those people on the other side of the counter act like they own whatever service you are trying to receive. It's like they are doing you a favour by listening to your query. One would wonder who's paying who. So it's refreshing to find people that are decent and helpful. 

Ms Faridah of Orange telecom at Forest Mall, you are awesome. I walked up to her counter and noticed she was pregnant. Pregnant ladies are notorious for their moodiness. Usually they are worse than the other folk. It's as if the whole world is responsible for their discomfort. We are somehow to blame for the swollen ankles, the changing appetite and sweltering heat. But this lady was a star on a dark night. It took her 20 minutes to answer my questions, replace my sim, set up my new modem and prepare my receipt. There was no contempt. She did not assume I spoke Luganda. For an additional 1000/- she actually helped me avoid registration by retaining my number. 

20 minutes is amazing. Especially since a certain other telecom company with a store in the same building took hours to tell me they couldn't do what I needed them to do - I had to go to another shop. Well done Madame. You are awesome!

Glad to find good people.

Children (41)

I saw my children again. I hadn't seen them in months, since September. I sent gifts and treats when I could but I always felt like it was never enough. I was surprised by how many names I remembered and how many I had forgotten. They, on the other hand, remembered me. They smiled coyly as I walked in. Everytime I come home and see them, our initial meet is like a dance amongst forbidden lovers. I seek them, while they hide; behind the pillars; behind each other; behind their smiles. It takes a few minutes to warm up and then it's back to normal. 

It's time for the Christmas play, the busiest season of our year. I am the bad cop in this situation. I threaten to punish the lazy bones. I tell those who aren't good enough that they can't take on the roles they auditoned for. I re-assign them to other roles. The other teachers are more patient (or so it seems) and gentler on the children.The balance works for us. I am mean while the others wipe their tears. 

As usual, money is tight. We are being creative and recycling a lot of the costumes. Thankfully we have support from our mothers. They offered cake and new costumes for the older children. We still need decor and stage props. There was something about balloons. The children will love that! The play is on Sunday. God help us.

I am home and I am glad.

Green People (40)

Looks like the week continues with a learning theme. I discovered that I am amongst many who are tinkering in gardening. 

When I was younger, I thought my mother's obsession with her gardens was strange. We spent weekends at the plot on Entebbe road, planting, tending to or harvesting matooke, gonja, sweet potatoes, pumpkins and mangoes. I never understood the tie to the earth and its fruit. I thought it might have had something to do with the fact that she grew up on a farm. 

They harvested their own millet hours before drying, crushing and mingling it into kalo. The chicken that they had at dinner had been alive that morning. The beans they ate for lunch had hang on their stalks the day before. I always thought that it made sense then, when she was younger, living the way they did. 

She still lives that way now. She has chickens in the backyard. She grows guavas, pawpaws, mulberries, kale, bananas and cabbage. [This is all in the backyard - does not include Entebbe road produce]. I was sure that this was all stuff Mum did because she was a special brand of person from 'that generation'.

Yet now, I find myself talking to lettuce and typing with the idea of invading the landlord's flowerbed because he gets all the sunshine! The stranger fact is that many of my friends are tinkering along too. 

We don't really know exactly what we are doing but we're enjoying the ride. Most of us seem to underestimate the survival rate of our seedlings. We plant 6, expecting 3 to survive and then end up with a crowded bed. In the end we have so much that we can't consume. You can't cook every meal with parsley. You can't eat sukuma everyday. 

My tomatoes died. It was a sad day when I pulled them out. Apparently, things like fertiliser and pesticides matter, especially when you have termites in your bed. I am tempted to cut down the landlord's mango tree. It soaks up all the sunshine! I got a new seedling today. We might have mums soon. 

Courtesy of Henry, my hugest inspiration

I am glad I spent the day with Sam. I am glad I spent yesterday with the Kaggwas.

Food and other stuff (39)

This weekend was about learning. I played around wih the idea of hot chocolate for breakfast. A little flour, hot chocolate, baking powder, oil, coffee and 2 minutes in the microwave. This is what we ended up with.

This is my idea of hot chocolate!

I discovered that I can cook duck with almost no hustle. I just need to marinate it for more than a day! So soy sauce, pineapple (thanks Yvonne) and duck cooked for about an hour make this:

Look like this:

I met a bunch of interesting ladies at a healthy cooking class. There was something said about atta chapatis, Green Garam/spinach masala and tandoori chicken. I was looking for the creamy sauce! I don't think I will ever embrace healthy eating 100%. Gotta have my cream, cheese and ice cream. But I met new people, drove around with the hubby in an old part of town and even squeezed in a 20 min trek through town all before 5:30pm :-) boo ya!

We went to see the Yellows. We had experimented with kale smoothies (I am in love with mint and ginger). We left with a  little healthy food harvest.

Golden love (38)

I think that when it comes to in-laws, I won gold. I've heard horror stories about in-laws who make impossible demands on newly-weds. While one might be busy figuring out the everydayness of a new marriage, especially one that involves a lot of travel, in-laws can be a source of unneeded pressure. I've seen people cry over failing to have children in the first year, or a mother-in-law who insists on teaching you what kind of food her son eats. Some go as far as to carry out weekly or daily inspections of the house checking for the tiniest speck of dust. They monitor the husband's weight to see if he loses or gains (this particular battle is always a loss for the bride. If he's too fat, you're over feeding him and trying to kill him with high cholesterol.  If he's too thin, you're starving him.)

She smiled when she saw me. I haven't been home in months but she didn't focus on that. She was glad I was home. She keeps talking about how well I look. Mbu I'm cute! She makes a habit of showing me off to the neighbours. She thanks me for looking after her son, like she is grateful for the favour I'm doing her. We gave her a framed photo from the wedding day and chocolate. She did a dance for us, praising God for such good children. She's decided that having an Acoli name means I must be able to speak the language now. I am one of her own. Did I mention that her cooking is amazing? And that she personally cooks every meal we have at home?

I won gold for sho! I am glad.

Stains and stories (37)

It happened again today. It happens on such a regular basis that we've decided that I can't be seen eating in public. I suspect that as a child I used to eat with all of my body- eyes, mouth, fingers, feet and back. I am sure I've stained every cloth I own.

As I dabbed at the bean curry stain on my shirt, I remebered the sitting across from you that day. I was completely clueless about how nervous you were. You were trying to figure out whether to use a knife and fork or if pizza was a finger food. I on the other hand had settled so well that I sat cross-legged in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

Later, you told me you'd never taken a girl out before, at least not by yourself.  I went on and on about nothing in particular. As expected, bits of cheese and tomato paste landed on my shirt. I joked about leaving my bib behind and said I should never be allowed to roam bib-less into eating establishments. That was when you relaxed. You realised that I wasn't grading your performance. It wasn't a test. I didn't have a list of to-dos that you needed to succeed in. I was comfortable laughing and eating (and splattering food all over myself). You finally saw that I was more than my family's name or the school I went to.

We stayed so long that we wrote off class for the rest of that day. I remember feeling happy as I dozed off  on your shoulder in the crowded dala dala as we returned to campus. I drifted away for an hour, which amazed the rest of the passengers. you enjoyed watching my face as I dreamt. You enjoyed the puzzled looks on everyone's faces. You even wiped the dribble from the side of my face (and I didn't know you that well).

In that crowded space, on that busy day, we floated at our own pace. We belonged. We were happy. I am glad you asked this messy one out to another meal. I am glad.

Not a minute more (36)

But make sure that you don’t get so absorbed and exhausted in taking care of all your day-by-day obligations that you lose track of the time and doze off, oblivious to God. The night is about over, dawn is about to break. Be up and awake to what God is doing! God is putting the finishing touches on the salvation work he began when we first believed. We can’t afford to waste a minute, must not squander these precious daylight hours in frivolity and indulgence, in sleeping around and dissipation, in bickering and grabbing everything in sight. Get out of bed and get dressed! Don’t loiter and linger, waiting until the very last minute. Dress yourselves in Christ, and be up and about! Romans 13:11-14, The Message bible

We can't afford to waste a minute...When I was more naive (I am not yet allowed to refer to my self as old, and, thus, can't refer to a younger self), I wrote a poem that I called 'She lived everyday till she died.' The general geist of it was that this character had consumed her life like one would devour their first meal after weeks of starvation. She was busy serving and saving. She loved and gave and poured herself out to others. She was consumed by a mission to reach and raise as many people as she could. 

At the time, I wanted to be this person. I wanted my eulogy to read the same way as this poem did. I wanted to die breathless after a life of constant life-saving action. I had plans to do grand things and to be a great person. I was stirred to do my bit to save the world from the cruel fate that greed and stupidity had condemned us to. I was arrogant and foolish (in the sense that I lacked wisdom, not that I lacked knowledge).

Back then, the boundaries of my world were endless. I felt that I could reach out and change lives in Myanmar if I wanted to. Now, I dare not look beyond the next few meters or beyond the next week. I am humbled by the fact that I do not have total control over where and how things end up (the number of embassy visits I have made is evidence of this. Ugandan passports are not travel-friendly). I read Paul's words then and thought he was asking me to pursue causes like social justice and empowerment of the impoverished with the passion and thirst of youth. I thought he was asking me to chase after every cause that came my way. I thought I was meant to put out all the fires I saw, to save the victims and then help them rebuild their lives. And, I guess that was the right attitude some of the time. 

Today, I looked at the text again. Maybe wisdom and time have changed my priorities. Paul said love is the basis of how we live life - not a dream to have a long list of deeds read when I die. I have a greater appreciation for how much people have sacrificed to support and sustain me. I am humbled by the idea of bearing and raising children, especially when done successfully (i.e. children actually end up independent and capable of caring for themselves, without resentful feelings colouring their childhood memories.)

So perhaps the focus on people I don't know and places I don't need to go to is indeed the waste of time Paul refers to, since it really is all about me making a name for myself, oblivious to God. I can't afford to waste another minute. It isn't about me. It's about love. 

I am here now. I should deal with that. I shouldn't be stressing about my eulogy. When the time comes it will not be my responsibility anyway. 

Except love (35)

Don’t run up debts, except for the huge debt of love you owe each other. When you love others, you complete what the law has been after all along. The law code—don’t sleep with another person’s spouse, don’t take someone’s life, don’t take what isn’t yours, don’t always be wanting what you don’t have, and any other “don’t” you can think of—finally adds up to this: Love other people as well as you do yourself. You can’t go wrong when you love others. When you add up everything in the law code, the sum total is love. Romans 13:8-10, The Message bible.

I'm usually good at following rules. Logic appeals to me because it makes sense. So when Paul says all of the law rests on my ability to love others, I am afraid. I am scared that I see too many holes in that line of thought. 'How can you show love when you're running on empty? ' 'Isn't it good enough that I don't kill, steal, commit adultery?' 'How can I love them when they hurt me so bad?' 

It's much easier to be nice and cordial than to delve into the depths of love. Now I know that I'm expected to go beyond niceness. I can't feign ignorance of Paul's words. Paul expects that we should love and the law's requirements would be a by-product. The law is the bare mininum that we can achieve. I should be aiming higher. 

I have not been the most patient of people in the last few days. Yet love is patient and kind. I haven't broken any laws. I haven't shown much love though. Maybe tomorrow will be better. I will be better tomorrow. 

Start the day with chicken pate (34)

When the husband tells you he bought chicken pate, you know it shall rain. And, indeed it did rain! He then goes on to surprise  me with a shopping trip for house plants. We actually bought 2 cacti and organic manure for our struggling veggie garden. We actually made plans to go visit an urban farmer in Mpererwe who says he can show us around his nursery of orange trees, herbs and tomatoes. 

The plant show was at the musem. He was patient enough to spend an hour perusing through the abandoned displays. Having been warned of the dreariness of the museum, it was surprisingly educational. Of course it's nothing like the Smithsonians. But it definitely has potential. A few interactive displays, a new coat of paint, new floors and it would be a hit. 

The surprises continued. Awesome lunch and house cleaning. He is my favourite person in the world.

Now he's offering to make me tea. Life is good.

By the sea (33)

I was looking back at my photos and saw that I actually took some nice shots at the sea side. We'd planned for lunch at the top of table mountain. However, we had not planned for windy weather. None the less, it gave us an excuse to (re-) explore another part of the city.  My partner in crime for this venture is new to the Mother City's wonder. He reluctantly agreed to try lunch by the sea, disappointed that it was no longer on top of the mountain. The road downhill was pretty steep, narrow and kept winding. He said he was getting dizzy from all the twists and turns. [I suspect the fact that we were moving was altogether foreign to him. Apparently, in Nigeria, people have to watch out for speeding snails. Their traffic drama is that intense.] I think he focused so much on keeping steady and failed to notice the view until we came round the last corner and he saw this..

I think it's pretty rad that the same image can capture the dark, misty mountains with a heavy clouds looming over them, as well as the sandy shore line. It's the best of both worlds. The advantage of it being a cloudy day, was that there weren't so many people crowding the space. We could stare and roam in moderate peace [there is no such thing as total peace in a public beach].

Visiting these places reminds me of the good ol' days when a trip to the beach was worth a week of saving, especially when converting from UGX to ZAR. I remember being at this beach one night. I suspect it was one of those nights when my friends had decided that school was not palatable. I did not have the luxury of enjoying school as much as they did. Somehow, the wonder and splendour of mathematics is lost after the hundredth simulation of a never ending problem. They, on the other hand, had the joys of Psychology, English Studies and Music to comfort them except on nights like these. So one night, we crammed into a Golf and ended up at Camps Bay, singing Boyz II Men and a bunch of other oldies. There are no drunken tales to tell, I'm afraid. If the cost of liquor were not a hindrance to me, surely, its taste was. The strangest thing I remember was that someone tried to climb this rock.

Then it got cold and I borrowed a sweater from one of the guys, which I later regretted. [In an attempt to repay the gentlemanly kindness I was shown, I washed the sweater and threw it into a tumble dryer with the rest of my clothes. I do not wear high-maintenance clothes. How was I to know that it would shrink to half its size because of the heat?!]

During that random night visit, I think we packed our own food. We'd smuggled fruit, juices and yoghurt from the lunch room. The most exotic thing we could afford were a couple of scoops of marvellous ice cream from Sinful [now called Addiction, another week's worth of savings]. Fast forward to the present and, this time, we were dining in style. Prawn and Avocado sushi with seared salmon while he had grilled baby chicken [ever wonder why baby animals cost more? lamb? veal? baby chicken? They couldn't even call it a chick because they know grilled chick sounds so cruel.]

When we came, all those years ago, I do not remember seeing all these houses. I don't think they were this many people living this side. But I also suspect that I was afraid to see. It was of no use for me to envy what was beyond my reach. Now, I can't help stealing ideas and criticising, as if I could compete. They are still beyond my reach. I think the difference is that it doesn't matter any more. I am no longer afraid of those who seem to have more. 

Note to my younger self:

You worry about having the things you need to survive and about being the right type of person to excel in this life. Don't. You have all you need to be who you need to be. They may look like they have more. But it means nothing unless you can actually enjoy it. Enjoy your youth and your friends. You will not have either for very much longer. 

H[er]STORY (32)

I watched the video, like most Ugandans. Apparently it has been shared from Saudi Arabia to Carlifornia. It broke my heart. How could a person be so cruel? We are known as friendly, hospitable people. Those videos of Africa show us smiling, dancing in the streets. What possesses a person to be so heartless? I cannot answer that question. 

Then there was a debate on the radio today about new wage rates for domestic workers in South Africa. The numbers seemed absurdly small and embarrassing for a nation that claims it is a beacon of light on a dark continent. I was around during the xenophobic attacks of 2009 and wondered how people could wake up one morning and suddenly attack their neighbours. Looking at the wages, knowing the cost of living and the history of the nation, I am surprised they haven't burnt down the parliament.

The debate made me wonder if the concept of minimum wage exists in my own little village. Apparently, increasing the monthly minimum wage from UGX 6000 to UGX 75000 might upset the macro-economic framework and discourage foreign direct investment in Uganda. Fair wages would discourage investment, says the President. That takes me back to the video and its contents. What is her story?

My former boss told me I was born privileged. He said I was lucky that my father never had to consider exchanging me for bride price at a young age, in order to sustain himself. Even though I can't speak various tongues fluently, the one that I do speak well is one that matters. It is not a dying tongue spoken by maybe ten thousand people in a world of 7 billion. If I wanted I could have my pick of schools. I did not ever have to choose between starvation and clothing or school. I did not have to depend on the use of my body to earn my way through life. At the time, I was slightly offended. I wanted to assure him that I have seen my share of hardships. After seeing that video, I know he was right. I do not condone what she did. However, what is her story? What turned her heart of flesh into a dead solid rock?

Growing up in a household where both parents had full time jobs, we were almost always under the keep of a nanny/maid or relative [usually in between the maids] before the parents returned home. Looking back, I am amazed at how patient they were with us. I remember some almost considered us as their children and later invited us to their family celebrations. I learnt how to cook from them. When the time came for me to go to boarding school, they made sure I was ready. They made sure I knew how to do my laundry by hand, to stitch my name onto my clothes and to clean my shoes. When we moved to a more secluded house, they were amongst the few who did not laugh at our failed attempts to speak vernacular. I think the first time I ever used a public mini-van taxi outside the city centre was with Jennifer. I had no idea that so many people existed in our city until she took us to the old park. I remember that we got Orbit chewing gum on the return journey. I think it was a reward for being good children. Helen tried to teach us Lugbara. Agnes taught me how to cook rice and serve it in fancy shapes. Dona taught us how to play. By the time Penny and Anita came, we were old enough to teach them. So we shared school books with them and taught them English. We were friends. It wasn't perfect but it worked.

When I watched the video, my first thought was "is this what they secretly thought of us as we cried over sugarless tea and cold porridge?" I wonder what her story is...

Same changes (31)

Today, I am grateful for the few consistencies amongst the inconsistent. I am glad that home is always ahead of me. I know I will wake up to a message from you. It makes me look forward to the sunrise. 

I am glad that all tea tastes great. One sip, one drop can save what would have been a most dreadful morning and make it almost normal. Tomorrow I will rediscover waffles!

I am glad that the family [blood and adopted] stick together. We may not always agree but we always love, we support, we help, amidst the fights and challenges. 

I am glad that the music does not change with location and time. The songs that we share bring joy always. The joy we share is our song.

I am glad that I know where I'm from. I am comfortable with who I am. I am excited about being part of you.

I am glad that sleep always comes to me. No matter how dreary or sad or great the day is, You give me sleep and peace.

Tonight (30)

[22:21, 11/24/2014] Clara: Only you
[22:21, 11/24/2014] Lawoko: All of me
[22:21, 11/24/2014] Clara: All for me
[22:22, 11/24/2014] Clara: Made for me

Because my happiness begins with you
Because...
You.

After the end (29)

It is many moons since we buried you, brother. I came back here to tell you that I did not let you down. I did not think that I would survive this. I did not believe that joy would come back into my life.  But I did survive and I did one better. I helped another, in the same way that you helped me.

One day, as I walked back from the fields, I met them. They were seated by the roadside, waiting. It seemed like they had been waiting forever, even though I had never seen them before. The sun had set on the day, making it difficult to see them amongst the shadows. I was the only one walking down the dusty road [You had taught me that a little extra work goes a long way, so I had stayed in the fields later than the others]. I also knew I would be the last person they would see until morning. I walked towards the tree under which they sat. My heart broke as they scampered to hide behind its thick stem. They were limping and appeared to have sore feet. There bare bodies were covered in grime, not the kind you get from a good day's work, but the kind that spoke of dark, dreary, damp living. 

"Hello!" I greeted, putting on my warmest smile. My voice seemed to scare them even more. I offered them a drink from my glass coca cola bottle [Do you remember the day we saved our bottle from the dreadful pile of rubbish? Why would anyone throw away something so useful? I have kept it since then, washing and re-using it each day]. The clear liquid aroused their curiosity. I placed the bottle on the ground and stepped away, giving them room to inspect and taste. 

They crept closer, painfully and slowly, letting out a wince with each step. They knelt down, sniffed at the bottle. The girl, who appeared to be the older of the two, decided it was worth the risk and took a sip. A few seconds later, seeing no averse effects, she passed it on to the brother. I watched in the half darkness, praying that they would finish their experimentation before it was too dark to reach the village. [I still lived in our little hut on the outskirts of the village. I have not had the heart to leave our memories behind.] They finished the water and set the bottle on the ground. Then they scurried back to the tree and stared at me. 

They had not said anything to me yet and seeing their unwillingness to approach me, I picked up the bottle, and continued my journey home. At first, I was worried that they would choose to risk another night in the wild. Then, I was glad to here their footsteps and winces behind me. They followed me home to our little hut. They have never stopped following me. 

They remind me of the days when I was your shadow. They are the reason I am here today. I want them to meet you, brother. I want them to know that you live beyond the grave, in my heart and in my mind. 

It is late. We must return. 

Good bye, brother.

Radical (28)

Radical:

[adj] A description of an action or thing that is especially impressive [urbandictionary.com]

[n] An extremist of a belief or a rebel [urbandictionary.com]

[adj] especially of change or action, relating to or affecting the fundamental nature of something, far-reaching or thorough [oxforddictionaries.com]

[adj] characterised by departure from tradition; innovative or progressive [Oxforddictionaries.com]

They are not the kind of music that you would typically find 20-somethings listening to. As Africans we are so used to this type of music that we do not see the need to support it financially. Whereas many will scrimp and save to catch a glimpse the latest American fad, they struggle to be seen. The fact that they have an amazing act or and obvious ability to entertain holds no merit. But they still stand. They risk whatever little they have; their time, pride, money. They step out and onto the stage. They enjoy themselves and perform like they are in the company of royalty.

I have been challenged that perhaps I do not think radically enough. When I was in school, people described engineering students by making rectangle or square shapes in the air with their fingers. Apparently, we were thought to have minds that were restricted in terms of our interaction with the "real" world. Life, for us, was thought to be defined by sets of equations. Most of us seemed to make decisions based on logical conclusions with the least probability of failure.

The logic did not prepare us for a world in which nothing made sense. People seldom keep their word. Nothing is ever as it seems. Opportunities neither arrive at your door step nor do they leave their contact details in the yellow pages. Success, especially financial success, is a reward that is mostly available to those who dare to make illogical, irrational decisions; choosing risk over safety.

We spent over 20 years preparing to join the army of 9-5 workers. We were brainwashed into thinking that this was all that matters. We plan and line up our papers and hope that the letters before and after our names will attract attention to us.

Perhaps we are focusing on the wrong methods. Maybe we should be learning to think outside the rectangles and squares; to look beyond what we see and step into the unknown with nothing but hope that all will be well.

It is so hard to leave my calculator behind. But I must….

In Pursuit of ... (27)

The fingers write though the heart is heavy. I am reminded of what I have sacrificed and those that I left behind. I have lost myself in the illusions that I helped create. They believe I am happy because they would have been happy. I believe I am content because they believe I am happy. Belonging and being are the basis of the heart's definition of home. Without that to hold onto, it beats for no purpose; a soundless rhythm echoing in a deaf space. 

I have had to change my definition of belonging. I can no longer point to a single location or to a people. Even nomadic tribes have patterns. They have a set route that they follow as the seasons change and pass by the same stream at the same time each year. I tried to believe what we tell ourselves; that the world is one village now and that to belong to one people is to belong to all. However, the awareness of my limits proves the falsehood of this belief. In 30 days I must leave. I will no longer belong. 

In defence of my roots and defiance of popular logic, I hold onto my little village. I refuse to claim another as my home. There have been moments when returning home hurt more than the departure journey. My own blood rejected my arrival. My own tongue spat on my face. I cannot shake that nagging voice; the fact that I must explain my accent every where and every time. 

Perhaps I should be content in knowing that, though I belong to no one, at least I belong to you. But on cold dreary nights, when sounds of others' laughter emphasise one's own emptiness, one wonders what it is what we are all chasing after. 

A few of my favourite things (26)

Bright golden sunlight

A view of the water

A smile in your eyes

As you take my order

Chicken with mushroom sauce cooked in red wine

These are my favourite things as I dine

White rum, sweet lemons, 

sugar and green mint

All stirred together 

Sure make a mean drink

Mojito to wash down that wonderful fowl

It was so tasty that I licked the bowl

Laughter among friends

Makes for a great evening

Even on days when

The soccer's depressing

Blueberry cheesecake turns frowns to smiles

I will remember this day for a while...

When the Cranes lose

And the Eagles land

When we're feeling sad

I simply look at the beauty, sublime

And I'm sure life will work out fine

Christmas at the Water Front

Tease me (25)

Twisting and twining

Your fingers dance round my neck

Light, feathery flutters

Then deep kneading

And release!

Freeing knots I didn't know I had

You continue to twirl

My eyes barely open

My head's caught up in a swirl

Round... and round...

On...and on you go

A warmth envelopes me

Taking me deeper into the haze

I hear your humming

Willing me to be at peace

I'm so glad I came

That you held me

That we shared this moment

I'm glad and happy

With my new hair cut.

Tea time! (24)

It's time for a pause. What better day to take a pause than Monday? While the rest of the world revs its engines and powers on, I roll over gently. Today I showed up at work at 10. I did not have to go since work starts tomorrow. I just had a few things to clear up. I left at midday. It was a beautiful clear day. I was convinced to have an unusually large lunch. Chicken Cordon Bleu with creamed spinach, butternut squash and a Greek salad. Then, some how ended up watching a thriller. Thankfully, it was the kind that actually ended with a twist of hope. Imagine that, hope after all that gut-ripping and blood-sucking rage and confusion :) My day was definitely going well. I took a long soak in a mint scented bath and took a long sip of chamomile tea. Pause. Relax. [Till tomorrow]

You can do it! (23)

Today was all about trusting. I have always wondered why people insist on pushing others to do stuff that they are not comfortable doing. I always thought, "Seriously, if I said I am not able to do it, please leave me alone." 

Today I remembered something a rock climbing instructor told me ages ago. "Trust the rock. Trust that it is strong enough can hold you. trust those who are helping you climb. But most importantly that you have it in you to make it to the top."

Trusting the rock...Who does these things?

That was 13 years ago [give or take a week]. Today I was challenged to take on rock climbing, hiking and jogging [which was more of a slow trot] in one day.

Read the sign, if  you can.

I find that I am learning more and more lessons from the younger siblings. Ivan was my coach, challenging a reluctant me to take just one more step. I am out of shape. I was a sour companion. I cried and fretted over everything.

In the beginning, before the tears..

At one point we had to pull ourselves up a rock, about 7 metres high  using a chain. I was not sure I could trust the ability of my hands to lift me, the strength of the chain or the sturdiness of the rock. I was terrified.

 

What if I got tired half way and could not pause for a rest? What if I slipped? What if this or that? He simply said, "You can do it. I know you can." And indeed I was able to do it. Thrice! We climbed through crevices in between rocks, tip toed on the edges of short cliffs and pushed our tired bodies up this devil of a mountain.

We really did climb up through the middle of this pile of rock, literally. We squeezed and tugged our way to the top

Then we had the audacity to walk down another treacherous path. I was 20 mins behind him. But I made it. I am sore and bruised all over but I made it. I learnt to trust again; to trust others, trust the rock and myself. I can do it! [I need to work out more often!]

 

I also decided I want my garden to look like this.